


The Way Home

by AllisonMadness



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Only a girl because I won't write mpreg, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Pregnant Bilbo, fem!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10057220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllisonMadness/pseuds/AllisonMadness
Summary: The Battle is over, Fili, Kili and Thorin are dead. Bilbo is pregnant and needs to leave the mountain immediately. She wants to return to her home in the Shire, but can't without a husband. Balin helps her find a solution.





	1. The Problem

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd write anything in this fandom, but this story appeared almost fully formed in my head, demanding to be let out. I tried ignoring it in the hopes that it would go away, but instead it started writing itself. Strange things are happening to me. :D
> 
> Many thanks to Badgerlady for being the most extraordinary beta.

“The King is dead!”

“Long live the King!”

Mirabelle “Bilbo” Baggins gazed down at her feet and the bottom of the ridiculously long trousers brushing her ankles, but did not truly see them. Tears dripped uncaring down her face and dampened the collar of the oversized coat she wore buttoned to the neck. This farce was far worse than she had imagined it would be and she desperately wished it to be untrue. It should have been Thorin or one of his nephews crowned King this day, but instead they lay in state at the far end of the chamber, and Dain was receiving the accolades that should have gone elsewhere. She wanted to bury her face in Gandalf’s robes and scream out her hurt and anger, but managed to hold herself still.

When the ringing sound of blades and axes raised to salute the new king had subsided and the sound of chatter slowly rose up around her, she turned to look at Gandalf.

“What is it you wish to do, Bilbo?” he inquired softly, his hand on her shoulder squeezing gently.

“I need to speak with Balin before I can make any decisions,” she said, her voice low and shaky with tears.

Gandalf released her shoulder with a final pat and nodded. “Let me know when you are ready to depart,” he said, his eyes filled with sympathy. “I will be down with the Elves at the healing tents.” Without another word, he strode off towards the front gate.

Bilbo watched him go for a long moment, then shook herself out of her stupor and hurried to catch up with the Company, all of whom were leaving the throne room so that Dain and his followers could have their celebration.

“Balin,” she called out when she was close enough. Balin looked back at her, then slowed his steps until she was even with him.

“Master Baggins,” he said, keeping to the ruse that she was a male Hobbit.

“Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” she asked.

Balin nodded and gestured quickly to Dori, who had turned to look at them. At the next intersection, he sheared off from the group, and she followed as he led unhesitatingly farther into the mountain. Bilbo faltered for a moment when she realized that they were headed to the treasury, not wanting to go that way.

“Dain does not know about the secret door,” Balin said as they entered the area and worked their way around the piles of gold and jewels. Bilbo kept her face turned as far away from the treasure as she could, hardly able to look at the piles of gold and jewelry. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a sparkling white gem and, for a moment, she was catapulted back to the moment of her banishment.

_“You are a traitor!” Thorin held her by her hair, and dragged her to the overlook atop the gate. “How dare you betray me in such a fashion!”_

_Bilbo cried out in pain and regret. “I was trying to save you!” she exclaimed. “I only wanted my husband back whole and sound of mind.” Her words trailed off until the last was just a whisper._

_“Save me!” Thorin shook her like a rabbit. “There is nothing to save! It is you whose mind is overthrown!” He lifted her into his arms. “I will throw you to the rocks!”_

_“Stay!” Gandalf’s voice came from below. “Release my burglar before you cause any damage!”_

_Thorin abruptly dropped her at his feet. “I gave you my heart,” he said harshly to Bilbo. “And you have broken it beyond repair. Get out of my sight and may we never meet again.”_

“Bilbo?” Balin’s voice called her back to herself.

“Forgive me,” she said, seeing that they had arrived at the door while she had been lost in her thoughts. “Being here brings back…memories.”

Balin nodded sympathetically. “It’s understandable. I should have thought of somewhere else to speak.”

“I doubt you would have found anything better,” she replied with a shrug, stepping out of the door. “I’m afraid that nearly all of the accessible parts of mountain contain memories of one kind or another. Only give me a minute to order my thoughts.”

Balin politely stepped away from her, turning his back to afford her what privacy he could. She walked to the top of the stairs and stared down at the blood-soaked battlefield in front of her. Tiny figures moved in every direction, gathering up the wounded and carting off the dead. The Orcs were being thrown into hastily dug pits for later burning. Tearing her eyes away from the scene below, she lifted her gaze to Ravenhill and found herself once again on the tower, kneeling beside Thorin.

_“Bilbo,” Thorin said, his breath coming in pained gasps. “I must leave you.”_

_“Do not leave me!” she cried, her voice broken. “There are things I must tell you!”_

_“I fear that I cannot cheat death,” he replied. “Tell me quickly, before I go.”_

_She heaved several breaths before she could bring herself to speak. “I carry your child, husband. Please do not leave me to raise him alone.”_

_Thorin’s eyes closed in sorrow. “Oh, how I desire to stay with you and the babe!” His voice was harsh with regret and self-recrimination. “I wish to take back my words and deeds at the gate, beloved. Please say that you forgive me.”_

_“Of course I do,” she said, grasping his hand. “You were not in your right mind.”_

_“I should have been stronger,” he rasped. “To think that I chose gold over you…” He coughed raggedly._

_“Thorin,” she began, but didn’t know what else to say._

_“I know not what has happened to Kili,” he whispered, his breathing labored and shallow. “If he has fallen and Dain takes the throne, you must leave Erebor with due haste. Speak with Balin. Heed his advice.”_

_“I will,” she said, great sadness in her heart. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead._

_“Farewell, my love,” he said and breathed his last._

Bilbo drew in a ragged breath and ran a hand over her eyes before turning to Balin. “Come sit with me,” she said with a tear-filled voice.

Balin joined her and together they walked down the stairs until they were out of sight of the doorway and enclosed on two sides by stone. Balin sat and Bilbo lowered herself next to him, unconsciously leaning against his shoulder.

“Speak quietly,” Balin warned, his voice a low murmur. “I doubt the sound will carry far, but better to be cautious.”

Bilbo nodded her agreement, then leaned even closer and spoke quietly into his ear. “I am with child.” She watched Balin’s face, but he showed no surprise.

“I suspected that might be the case,” he replied, taking her hand.

“How did you guess?” she exclaimed in surprise.

“There were clues,” he said, gently stroking her fingers. “The way you carry yourself, your hand covering your belly. Also, you have been ill several times and your appetite seems much changed.”

“Who else suspects?” she asked, afraid that her actions had given her away.

“Only Oin, as far as I know, although Bomber would have realized were he paying close enough attention to you. His wife has born him several children,” he reassured her. “No one else seemed to have had the…presence of mind to notice.”

Bilbo laughed bitterly. “They wouldn’t, not with all that gold in front of them. How did you and Oin escape the lure?”

“I do not know how it is that we were saved from its call, but I am eternally grateful for it.” Balin squeezed her hand sympathetically. “How may I help you?”

“Before Thorin…passed,” her voice broke over the word. “He urged me to speak with you. He told me that you would advise me and that I could trust you. I believe…” She paused to take a breath. “I think I need to leave Erebor, and I need to do it swiftly.”

“I don’t disagree with that assessment,” Balin said with a frown. “If it is discovered that you are female and carrying Thorin’s babe, your life will be forfeit, as will those who kept the secret from Dain. This child will be seen as a threat to Dain’s rule.”

She nodded sadly. “I thought that might be the case.”

He gazed at her thoughtfully. “Do you wish to return to the Shire?”

Bilbo laughed sadly, her heart aching. “I do wish it, very much, but I fear that I cannot.”

Balin looked surprised. “Why ever not?”

“If I return, heavy with child and no husband…” She shuddered. “It would be…very poorly received.”

“But you had a husband,” Balin protested. “I would know, I was at the ceremony in Beorn’s garden.”

“You must understand how Hobbits think,” Bilbo replied as calmly as she could, even though she wanted to rail at the unfairness of it all. “I left many months ago, with a large group of Dwarves on an adventure that no self-respecting Hobbit would even contemplate joining. To then return to my home and claim widowhood: it will not be believed. They will want proof, and when none is forthcoming, I will be labelled as promiscuous. There will be claims that I went on this adventure in order to…” She stopped speaking and lowered her gaze to her lap, unable to voice the horrible thought.

Balin covered his eyes with his free hand. “I see,” he said and then muttered something in Khuzdul under his breath.

Bilbo chuckled. “I have no idea what you just said, and I’m fairly certain that I don’t want to know.”

“Likely not,” Balin said, smiling lightly. “It was not at all complimentary to your countrymen.”

She continued to laugh quietly for a long moment, the amusement calming some of the hurt and anger, but then sobered, bringing her mind back to the situation at hand. “Have you any suggestions for me?”

“Nothing for the moment,” he responded. “Let me think on it for a while.” He stood and offered her his hand, which she grasped gratefully.

“Take the time that you need,” she said as she stood.

“I cannot take too long,” Balin said, a hand at her back to steady her on the stairs.

“No, I suppose not,” Bilbo agreed. “Shall we return to the Company?”

“Yes,” he said and followed her back up the stairs. At the last step, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Do you mind if I talk to one or two of our companions about the situation?”

“Not at all.” She smiled at him. “Oin will be one, I imagine.”

They walked back to the door. “Yes,” he said. “While not the most pressing, I would like him to look you over, to ascertain that you are in good health.”

She nodded. “I expected as much; however, I’m unsure of what would constitute _good health_ at this point.”

“True enough,” he answered soberly. The hardships of the journey and the battle weighed heavy on all the companions and Bilbo wished there was something that could be done about it. She watched as Balin closed the secret door, once again hiding it from casual view. It was easy enough to open from the inside, but the person looking to exit the mountain would have to know it was there in the first place.

The conversation was dropped when they reentered the treasury and made their way back to the large suite of rooms that the companions had taken for their own. Bilbo paused in the doorway to the main room and looked at each one of her Dwarves fondly as they sat around the fireplace, on the floor or what furniture they had managed to find that had escaped the ravages of time and dragon fire. Eventually she made her way over to Dori and Ori, who sat on a stone bench covered with their cloaks and sleeping furs, and sat next to them. Dori motioned her closer, then put an arm around her and encouraged her to lean on him.

“Rest,” he said gently. “You’re worn thin from the last few days.”

“I am,” she responded, suddenly very weary. Gratefully she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

\--------------

When Bilbo woke, she was lying on the bench alone, with someone’s cloak covering her, and another bunched under her head. She opened her eyes at the sound of arguing voices and looked around the room. Dori, Nori and Ori were in the far corner with Bofur and Gloin. She couldn’t understand what was being said, they were talking over one another, but the conversation was heated.

She pushed herself up to a seated position. “All of you are very noisy!” She called out to them. The arguing stopped immediately and they all turned to look at her.

“You’re awake,” Balin said, coming over and sitting next to her. “How are you feeling?”

“Somewhat better,” she replied, pushing her hair away from her face. “Is there anything to eat?”

“We saved some breakfast for you.” Balin waved to Bombur, who was standing next to a pot near the fire. “It’s only porridge, with some bread and cheese, but it’s nearly time for lunch anyway.”

Bilbo stared at Balin in surprise. “I slept longer than I expected,” she said.

“You needed it, obviously.”

Bilbo nodded as her hands clenched in her lap. “Do you…do you think Dain will be a good king?” She asked hesitantly, watching as most of the Dwarves left the room, off to do whatever jobs they had.

Balin hesitated for a long moment. “I do think so. He’s always been just and fair with his own Dwarves, I see no reason for that to change.”

“Then why…” She stopped talking and took a shaky breath.

Balin sighed. “I doubt that Dain himself would command your…death, but there are those closest to him that will fight any perceived threat to the throne. You would be an insurmountable obstacle to Dain’s son Thorin Stonehelm and his claim to the throne. Many of his advisors and nobles will not allow that.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed, her voice a breathy whisper. “There would be no chance that a child of mixed birth would be allowed on the throne, regardless of who the father is.”

“I know that, but there will be some who won’t care. They’ll be taking no chances.”

Bilbo looked away, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “I’ve really no place to go.”

“I’m working on that,” Balin said, resting a hand on hers.

She stopped talking as Bomber brought over the food. She picked at it for a time, but then seemed to find her appetite. When she finished, she moved the bowl over to the side.

“Have you given it any thought?” she asked.

Balin nodded. “I have and we will speak of my recommendations after Oin has a look at you.”

Bilbo looked up to see Oin standing at her side.

“Come on laddie,” he said. “Let’s go into the next room.”

The room he led her to was small but had a window high on the wall. “We are near the outside?” she asked as Oin urged her to remove her coat and sit on the small chair in the room.

“Yes,” Balin said, coming to stand near her. “These suites are part of the royal quarters and are in the most favorable area of the mountain. Several of the rooms have a window and the King’s chambers have a door to the outside.”

“Will this be private enough?” she asked eyeing the window and the late Autumn sunlight struggling to break through the filthy panes of glass.

“The window is on a sheer face, no one could possibly stand beneath it and the ledge on the outside of the Kings quarters begins farther down. I checked everything this morning and I’ve got Bifur standing out on the ledge to make sure no one is out there trying to spy.”

Bilbo sighed in relief as Oin tilted her head up to look in her eyes. “How far along do you think you are?” he asked as he tilted her head slightly to one side and then the other.

“Two months, maybe a little more,” she replied.

“Hmmm…” he said “Any problems that you’ve noticed?”

“No,” she said. “Hobbits are very resilient when it comes to carrying. Few of us ever have problems.”

“That may be true,” Balin said as Oin continued his examination. “But do you know of any Hobbits who married outside of their race?”

“I don’t,” Bilbo admitted. “There were rumors that one of my Took ancestors married a Fairy, but that has certainly never been proven. Mostly it’s a joke that’s used to excuse their adventurous nature and propensity for getting into trouble.”

Oin stepped back. “You seem healthy enough,” he said. “But carrying a half-Dwarf will be different than carrying a Hobbit, so someone will need to keep a close eye on you. How long do Hobbits normally carry a babe?”

Bilbo stood and put her coat back on, smiling a little. “Eight months, although a babe born at seven months is considered normal.”

Balin grinned with her. “Usually seven months after the wedding, then?”

Bilbo nodded with chuckle. “Exactly.”

“Dwarves carry around eleven months,” Oin said. “So, it’s likely that you will go longer than what is normal for Hobbits, and the babe will be larger. You must be settled somewhere before your eighth month, with someone who can help you if you have troubles.”

“That is what we’re going to discuss,” Balin said.

“Now?” Bilbo asked.

“It’s as good a time as any, don’t you think?”

She nodded, sitting back down as Oin left the room. “What are your recommendations?”

Balin settled on the floor near her feet. “We have a few options,” he said. “We could send you to Gondor, or Rohan…”

“Men?” she exclaimed. “I don’t know if I want to do that. The Men in Lake Town saw me as little more than a child. They treated me as if I had no brains, or worse, was some sort of freak. I don’t want that for myself or my child.”

Balin nodded. “I thought you wouldn’t, but it is an option."

“Only as a last resort,” Bilbo replied.

“Alternatively, Gandalf may be able to convince Thranduil to take you in, at least until the babe is born.”

Bilbo thought about this. “I don’t know if I want to spend that much time in Thranduil’s realm. My memories of his palace aren’t the best.”

“That’s true,” Balin agreed. “It was a very difficult time for all of us.”

“Besides, where would I go after the child is born? I can hardly see myself travelling with a nursing babe.”

“I hadn’t considered that.” Balin looked thoughtful. “I thought to send you to Beorn, but he has no one there to help with the birth and you would be in the same situation after the babe comes, looking for a new home.”

Bilbo sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I need a bath,” she muttered.

Balin laughed. “I’ll see what I can arrange after we’re finished here.”

She peered at him suspiciously. “You knew I wouldn’t accept the first suggestions; what is the advice that you think I _will_ take?”

He looked sheepishly at her. “You are quicker than Thorin,” he said. “He never figured that out.”

“Balin,” she said shortly. “Just tell me.”

“I want you to go home, to the Shire.” He held up a hand when she started to interrupt. “With a husband.”

“What!” She cried out, her eyes welling with tears. “Why are you being so cruel?” she whispered.

Balin looked horrified. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Bilbo. I’m trying to be practical. You need a husband so that you can go home to Bag End and there are a few of us that will choose not to remain in Erebor if another option is offered.”

She rocked back and forth on her chair, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Tears streamed down her face and her chest heaved as she tried to suppress her sobs. Balin awkwardly pulled her from her seat and into his arms, stroking her back as she cried into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were doing so well, I didn’t think about how such news would affect you.”

She cried for a long time, finally grieving for what she had lost.

“Whom would you choose?” She asked hoarsely after she had cried herself out, and lay limp in his arms.

“There are three or four that I would consider viable options,” he said softly. “But I would have you choose Dwalin.”

She pushed back from him and looked at his face. “Why Dwalin?” she asked. “Thorin made him captain of the guard and he was looking forward to it.”

“I know.” Balin nodded. “But Dain has said that he will put one of his own men into that position, which means that Dwalin will be a foot soldier again.”

Bilbo frowned at that. “How many others have lost their promised positions?”

Balin’s eyes swept downward. “I have. He already has a steward, and has no need for another.”

“So…” she hesitated. “If I marry Dwalin, the both of you would travel to Hobbiton with me.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “If you would have us.”

“You would both be welcome.” She pulled herself away from him and he let her go. “Anyone else?”

“A few of the others will take lesser positions, but none of them are truly unhappy about it. Bofur would seriously consider marrying you if that is your choice, but I think that he would prefer to remain with his family. Bombur’s wife and children will be leaving Ered Luin as soon as word is given and both Bofur and Bifur are as excited to see them as Bombur.”

“Oin and Gloin will stay,” Bilbo pronounced with certainty.

“Yes,” Balin agreed. “Oin will be needed as one of the physicians, and Gloin has been made master of the treasury. He will oversee the distribution of each of the Company’s shares and the payments to Bard and Thranduil, then will take over the organization of the treasure. He says it will take years to work through all of it. Gloin’s wife and son will travel with Bombur’s family next spring.” He paused. “Ori could be a choice.”

“No,” she said firmly, horrified at the suggestion. “He’s far too young. He will outlive me by a hundred years or more, and I know that he has been offered a position at the royal library to work on his mastery. I will not take that away from him. Nor would I pick Dori or Nori.”

“That leaves Dwalin or myself,” Balin replied. “Dwalin is the better choice.”

“Why do you think so?” Bilbo looked at him closely.

“I have no desire to marry, I never have. I will do it if you wish, but…”

“You would rather not,” she said. “Certainly, I will not force you, but aren’t we doing the same to Dwalin?”

Balin shook his head. “No. When I talked to him about it, he said that it _should_ be him that marries you. He strongly desires to stay with you and babe, even if the marriage is for convenience only. You are the last tie to his closest friend.”

Bilbo looked thoughtful. “Will he be able to settle in the Shire? You know that there are no enemies or battles there. We have the Shirriffs and the Bounders, but I doubt that would be enough to keep him busy.”

He smiled at the thought. “Very true, although I imagine he would be more than willing to take on the job of helping the Bounders keep the Shire safe. You could also send him off to travel with the Rangers for a few months if he becomes too restless.”

“That is a good idea,” she agreed. “Well…bring him in so we can talk about it.”


	2. The Solution

_“I desire you,” he said softly._

_“Desire is not the same as love,” Bilbo replied, gazing out at the darkness. Behind where they sat, the rest of the Company slumbered around the banked campfire._

_“I know,” Thorin sighed. “I…”_

_“Don’t say you love me, if you don’t mean it,” Bilbo said abruptly._

_“I wouldn’t disrespect you in such a way,” he insisted._

_The silence lingered for several minutes, only broken by the call of an owl in the distance._

_“I think you are aware of my feelings,” Bilbo said, staring at her hands, fingers twisting into the fabric of her coat._

_“I am,” Thorin replied, turning to look directly at her. “Bilbo…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “What…what is your full name?”_

_“Mirabelle Baggins,” she said, looking up with surprise. "At your service,” she added as an afterthought._

_Thorin looked at her with surprise. “How did you come to be called ‘Bilbo’?” he asked._

_Bilbo grinned. “When I was very young, Dad caught me trying to climb the Party Tree and my dress was snagged on one of the lower branches. He started calling me Bilbo after I told him that I couldn’t wear silly skirts anymore because they ruined my fun. He later told me that that would have been my name, if I had been a boy.”_

_Thorin chuckled. “How did your mother respond?”_

_“She laughed and laughed, and then made me some trousers to play in.” Bilbo giggled lightly. “It was quite the scandal.”_

_“I imagine so,” Thorin replied his smile lingering. He levered himself to his feet and turned to stand in front of her, offering her his hand._

_“What…” she stuttered, but took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled upright._

_“Mirabelle Baggins,” Thorin said solemnly. “I wish you to marry me.”_

_“Excuse me?” Bilbo gaped at him. “You want me to…”_

_“Allow me to wed you,” he said, gripping her hand tightly. “I want to make you my wife.”_

_“Why?” she asked sharply. “Marrying me just to get me into your furs…”_

_“Not that,” Thorin said firmly, then hesitated. “Well…not only that.” He smiled deprecatingly._

_“What then?” Bilbo tried to pull her hand away but Thorin hung on with determination._

_“I knew, almost from the beginning that you were my heart,” he said._

_“You had a strange way of showing it,” she said acerbically._

_“I did not recognize it at first,” Thorin admitted with a nod. “Many Dwarves have found the other half of their souls, but I never expected to have the same for myself. I have lived long without feeling the pull towards another, and to feel it for someone who is not a Dwarf: that is very nearly unheard of.”_

_“And your behavior in the Misty Mountains?”_

_Thorin grimaced. “It frightened me when you fell. It was at that moment that I realized that losing you would devastate me and I struck out.”_

_“And after?” she asked, determined to know the answer._

_“I have no excuse,” he said, pulling her closer. “Bilbo, I will spend the remainder of my years trying to make up for the things I said and did at the beginning of our journey, if only you will allow it.”_

_She raised her hand and rested it on his face, feeling his beard for the first time beneath her palm. “There is no need,” she said lovingly. “I forgive you.”_

\-----------

Dwalin looked as uncomfortable as she felt, standing in the doorway with his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His shoulders were hunched, something she rarely saw him do, and he was looking at her feet.

“Dwalin,” she said kindly and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said gruffly. He stepped forward until he was directly in front of her, his gaze sad, but steady. “I wish to do it, lass. I couldn’t…” he stumbled and the despair on his face was almost more than Bilbo could bear. “I couldn’t protect my King, my… _friend,_ there at the end. I will do everything in my power to protect his wife and child.”

“It was not your fault.” She reached out and took his hand. He gently closed his fingers around hers.

“So the others have told me, but it is…difficult to believe. If I had only been a little faster, a little stronger…” His face was twisted with regret.

“No,” she said. “No. You did all you could.”

He nodded slightly, but she could see that he really didn’t believe her.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said.

“We do, but it will keep for the moment.” She paused and took a breath. “Ask me,” she whispered.

“Will you…marry me, Bilbo?” Dwalin’s voice was choked and anxious, but his eyes never wavered from hers.

She smiled sadly. “Yes, I will.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. She pretended not to see the single tear that trickled down his face.

\-----------

Dwalin kept a firm hold on her hand as they as they sat on the stone bench in front of the fire. She found the feel of his fingers against hers to be very reassuring.  They talked softly while waiting for the company to return for the night.

“Gloin has set aside as much of our shares as we’ll be able to carry. I’ve purchased a wagon from one of the men of Lake-Town to carry that and our supplies.”

“What of the remainder of your shares?” Bilbo asked, watching the flames dance.

“We’ve given Gloin permission to distribute it to the Dwarves from Ered Luin who need it most.” Dwalin’s thumb stroked her knuckles. She wondered if he was even aware of it.

“Has Dain approved of this plan?” she asked curiously.

Dwalin snorted. “He has, but he didn’t like it. He wanted the rest of our shares to go to the rebuilding of Erebor. We told him to take the portion we’d promised Thorin and be happy with it.”

Bilbo laughed. “I hope Balin was a bit more…diplomatic…about it.”

“I was,” Balin said from where he sat, writing on a large sheet of parchment. “He was more upset at the news that Dwalin and I would be leaving with the burgler.”

“Did he really expect you to stay after taking away your positions?” Bilbo was flabbergasted at the idea.

“I think he did,” Dwalin said. “No one else has complained, so he probably thought we were all going to make the best of it.”

“Hmmm…I thought you said he was clever?” Bilbo teased.

Balin chuckled. “He’s a very clever Dwarf, but he’s accustomed to being obeyed. It’s a failing of those in power.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, only the sound of the fire and Balin’s quill on the parchment

“What are you writing?” Bilbo asked.

“Your marriage contract,” Balin replied easily. “I’ll want to complete it tonight so that we can do the ceremony in the morning.”

Bilbo sucked in a surprised breath. “I didn’t have a contract with Thorin,” she said.

Dwalin snorted. “He was in too much of a hurry to wait for the contract to be finished.”

Balin’s mouth quirked up with amusement, the quill still scratching across the page. “I worked on the contract before we got to Mirkwood, but there was little time. Then it was lost when the Elves took our packs.”

“Why the hurry now?” she asked. “Couldn’t we do the ceremony and finish the contract later?”

“No,” Dwalin said quietly as Bofur and Bifur came in the door. “It has to be witnessed by four Dwarves to be legal. Two for you and two for me. We’ll need to do that before we leave.”

Bilbo nodded her understanding.

After everyone had returned to the room, Balin carefully capped the little bottle of ink next to him before setting aside the quill and parchment.

“I’ve some news,” he said, standing up and moving next to Bilbo, resting his hand on her shoulder. The rest of the Dwarves turned to look in their direction. “It’s been decided that Bilbo will return to the Shire. She will be leaving as soon as it can be arranged, in the hopes of getting her past the Misty Mountains before winter makes it impassable.”

There were some murmurs among the group but no one seemed to disagree.

“You need to go home,” Bofur said with an unhappy frown. “I’m afraid that there’s not going to be a place for you here. Not with Thorin and the boys gone.”

“You’re right,” Bilbo said, her face mirroring Bofur’s. “I had planned to make Erebor my home, but I know that that is no longer possible.”

Balin cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. “Dwalin and I will be going with her.”

“What?” several exclaimed. Only Gloin and Oin did not look surprised.

“Why would you do that?” Dori asked. “You’re needed here.”

“Not really,” Dwalin rumbled. “Balin has lost his position as steward and I will not be captain of the guard. There’s really no reason for us to stay.”

Bofur was eyeing their joined hands. “Will you be staying with Bilbo, then?”

“Dwalin and I are to be married,” Bilbo said. “I…need a husband to return to the Shire with me.”

“Why do you need a husband?” Bofur asked. “You seemed to be doing well enough on your own before the quest.”

Balin stepped forward and raised his hand. “Before she speaks, we must have your vow that you will say nothing to anyone about what she tells you. Not even your families. If you feel that you can’t do that, I must ask you to leave the room.”

Everyone stared at her for a long moment, then Bombur lumbered to his feet. “I cannot keep secrets from my wife. It’s better if I don’t know.” Then he left the room.

The rest stood one by one and made a personal vow to her.

When they had all settled again, Bilbo placed a hand on her stomach. “I carry Thorin’s child.”

Everyone was staring at her and Bofur’s mouth worked silently for a moment. “I don’t understand.”

Slowly, the entire story was told and at the end Dwalin had his arm wrapped around Bilbo as tears once again streamed down her face.

There was a brief, shocked silence, then everyone started yelling at once.

“Enough!” Dwalin bellowed, and the outraged voices immediately subsided. “We all agree that it’s a bad situation, but we can’t change it. Bilbo and I have both decided that this is the best solution.”

 “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or grieve for you,” Dori said sadly and Ori nodded.

“Both,” she said. “I miss Thorin with everything I have, but I’m glad I’ve got a little bit of him growing inside me.”

Dori stood and served up a bowl of stew from the pot on the fire, then brought it over to her. “Eat,” he said. “You need your strength.”

That was the signal for the group to disburse for their own meals. Bofur stuck his head out into the corridor and called Bombur back into the room, while Bilbo stared down at the bowl of meat and broth, stirring it aimlessly with her spoon.

“Dori is right, you need to eat,” Dwalin murmured and she raised the spoon to her mouth. The stew was hearty and flavorful and the bowl was empty before she realized it. Dwalin took the bowl from her and set it aside.

“Do you want a bath now?” Balin asked from her other side.

“I would love to be clean again,” Bilbo said, pushing her hair away from her face.

Dwalin helped her to her feet and she let Balin lead her into one of the side rooms, which turned out to be a small bathing chamber with a stone tub. “I filled it earlier, I just need to add the water I’ve had heating by the fire.” He left the room and returned a few moments later with a large kettle. After he emptied that into the tub, he left her alone.

She dug through her hair until she found the tiny braid hidden in her curls. Reluctantly, she pulled off her marriage bead and let out the braid. She set it aside, then stripped and climbed into the bath.

After the bath, she washed her clothes in the bathwater and hung them to dry, then she rummaged in her pack for her last pair of trousers, and a Dwarven tunic that Ori had found for her in one of the storerooms, dusty, wrinkled and too large, but serviceable enough for her. Once dressed, she joined Dwalin back in front of the fire, comb in one hand, her marriage bead in the other.

“Do you want me to braid that back into your hair?” He asked softly, indicating the bead in her hand.

“No. Not until we’re away from here. I don’t want to hide my braids any longer.” She tucked the bead into her pocket, then turned her gaze up to him. “I’d like you to braid your bead along with his, if you’re willing.”

Dwalin stared at her in amazement. “More than willing,” he whispered gruffly, his blunt fingers clenching briefly in his lap.

She ran the comb through her hair, working to remove the tangles and knots. Dori and Bofur were setting up their bedrolls on the other side of the fireplace, while Ori sat nearby, knitting on a new scarf. Off in the far corner Balin was speaking in low tones with Oin and Gloin, while Nori pretended not to be listening to them. Bombur was banking the fire for the night with Bifur’s help.

“Dwalin,” she started. “About the marriage…”

“No,” he said, stopping her with a finger to her lips. “Not now.”

Her eyes turned to the rest of the company, who were beginning to settle in for the night. “You’re right,” she sighed. “But very soon.”

“When everyone is asleep.” he said and, seeing that she had finished with her hair, grasped her hand again.

“You’re different,” she murmured.

“How so?” he asked.

“Softer, maybe?” She shrugged. “I’m not certain.”

“Hmmm…” Dwalin settled back into the bench, uncaring of the hard stone behind him. “Did you know that Thorin and I were raised together?”

The change of topic startled her, but she said nothing about it. “He told me that you were very close in age, and that you and he were together almost from the beginning.”

“Yes, although I was younger than he when Erebor was taken by Smaug and don’t remember it as well as he did. I fought with him at Azanulbizar, along with our brothers and fathers.”

“Where is his brother?” she asked.

“He died during the battle at Moria. Thorin blamed himself for it, although both he and Frerin were far too young to be at the battle. Thorin was only fifty-four at the battle and Frerin was fifty. I was forty-eight. Thorin was changed after that, harder and more focused on caring for his people. With Thror dead and Thrain missing, he had no choice.”

_Ah,_ she thought. “When do Dwarves come of age?” Bilbo watched as Balin clapped Gloin on the shoulder, signaling the end of their conversation, and walked back towards her and Dwalin.

“Seventy-seven, although they can take an apprenticeship at sixty.  When they come of age, they can be accepted as a journeyman and start working towards their mastery.” Dwalin nodded toward Ori. “Ori is eighty. Balin was going to take him as a journeyman steward, but he wants to be a scribe. He decided to wait until Erebor was retaken to find a master to work under.”

“How…how old were Fíli and Kíli?” Her throat tightened at the thought of such young Dwarves dying.

“Fíli was eighty-two, and Kíli was seventy-seven. Kíli was not quite an adult when we started the journey.” Balin answered, settling on the ground near them.

“Why were they even on the journey?” Bilbo asked tightly. “Hobbit children would never be allowed to leave their parents before their coming of age.”

“Thorin filled their heads with the glory of Erebor, starting when they were very small.” Dwalin’s voice was bitter. “There was no holding them back once he decided to try and retake the mountain. Thorin’s sister, Dis, fought against it for a long while; she especially wanted Kíli to stay behind. But they were determined, and Thorin encouraged them.”

Bilbo’s eyes burned, but she was determined not to cry. “Will…Dis come here?” she asked, her voice harsh with suppressed tears.

Balin eyed her sadly. “Probably,” he admitted. “Ered Luin is not our place, we never really fit in. At the least, she will want to collect Fíli and Kíli’s share of the treasure before she makes any kind of decision. Dain has indicated that he will make a place for her in the royal suites, so my guess is that she’ll stay.”

\-----------

The majority of the Company was asleep, although the large room was not quiet. Snores echoed around the room and off the walls. It was a familiar sound, and Bilbo had no problem ignoring the noise. Only Balin was awake, putting the finishing touches on the contract.

She looked at Dwalin and he met her eyes calmly. They’d discussed many things about the marriage in the last hours: where they would live, how Dwalin would stay busy, the baby, everything except the one thing that was on both of their minds.

“You’ll share a room with me,” Bilbo said with surety.

“There’s no need, lass,” Dwalin said. “It’s not something I expect.”

“But is it something you desire?”

Dwalin hesitated. “I…”

“What is it?” Bilbo asked. “We can’t work through any problems if you don’t tell me. I know we need some time to become comfortable with each other but, If you have no desire for this to eventually be a real marriage, I want to know now.”

Dwalin swallowed hard. “I do want that,” he admitted. “You’re very desirable, and if Thorin hadn’t pursued you, I’d have given serious thought to doing so myself. But I don’t want to try and replace Thorin.”

Bilbo gripped his hand. “You won’t replace him, not at all. We’ll be building something completely different.” She looked away for a moment, then back at him. “Thorin and I hardly had a chance to talk, much less try to build a life together. Since the marriage, we went from one disaster to another and it always seemed that there was no time for anything except falling into bed together. He always said that we would talk, learn about each other, after Erebor was reclaimed.”

“He planned so many things after he had the mountain back,” Dwalin said. “But I think he knew that it wasn’t really going to happen. He was so anxious to do everything right now; it’s why he wouldn’t wait to marry you, once he’d decided.”

She nodded. “I knew that he was trying to fit as much as he could into a very short time period. Sometimes he was frantic with it.”

“It will be different with us,” Dwalin whispered.

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed. “We’ll have time to learn, to be comfortable with each other. We’re already friends, and many good marriages in the Shire were built on friendship. I think we could do the same.”

Dwalin raised a hand and wound it gently into her hair, pulling her forward until she rested her forehead on his chest. “Thank you for this,” he said. “You’ve given me a gift so great, I doubt I’ll ever be able to repay it.”

“Just be my friend and my husband. That’s all the repayment I require.”

He laid his head on top of hers and sighed.


	3. The Journey Begun

_Gandalf stood in front of Thorin and Bilbo, a knowing smile on his face that made Bilbo wanted to pinch him for being smug. “Shall we begin?” he asked importantly, waving his staff at the gathered group. Thorin scowled briefly, then deliberately wiped it off his face, turning to look at Bilbo._

_“Mirabelle Baggins,” Thorin began. “You are my heart. The missing part of me that I have looked for and not found until now. When I nearly lost you in the Misty Mountains, my heart stopped. I knew then that I could not live without you, even though my behavior did not reflect that. When you decided to leave the Company, and travel back to Rivendell, I was both relieved at the thought that you would be safe and terrified that you would no longer be near me, where I could protect you. Your actions when we were confronted with Azog were the bravest thing I have ever witnessed and I knew then that I must make you my wife.” He stopped for a moment, breathing hard. “Will you join your life with mine, become my lady-consort, always at my side, to reside with me, to support me, to counsel me, to love me, to let me support and love you, to care for you and any children we may have, for the rest of our lives, however long that may be?”_

_Bilbo’s heart did a little flip at his words, but her hands were steady in his. “I accept you as my husband, my lover, my king. I hope to grant you many children and long life. I promise unwavering support in public, unflinching counsel in private, especially when you need to be reminded that you are sometimes wrong, and love to last the rest of our days. In return, I ask if you will be my husband. Will you promise to listen to me with an open heart, never fight with me in public, raise our children with love, care, and a firm hand, and stay with me for however many years we are granted?”_

_Thorin blinked rapidly for a moment. “I do accept and promise you the things you ask. May Mahal grant us love, children and life for many long years.”_

_With swift fingers, he braided his bead into Bilbo’s hair, then she did his with the little wooden bead that Fili had carved for her._

_“It is done,” Gandalf intoned when they had finished, looking well pleased with himself._

_Thorin swept her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and kissing her with passion. “You are mine now, love, and I’m never letting you go,” he growled into her ear._

_Bilbo laughed with delight._

\-----------

After she read through the contract and had Balin make a few minor changes, mostly having to do with things that Bilbo thought weren’t anyone’s business but hers and Dwalin’s, Bilbo decided to have Dori and Ori as her witnesses.

Balin laid the contract out on the table. As per Dwarf custom, Bilbo signed first, then Dwalin. Dori and Ori signed after, followed by Oin and Gloin, Dwalin’s choice for witnesses.

“Is the wagon packed?” she asked Dwalin as they readied themselves for the ceremony. “I don’t want to delay once we’re finished here.”

“It’s loaded and ready to go; Gandalf is with it.” Dwalin’s words reassured her and she smiled at him as he grasped her shaking hands, wrapping his fingers around them. Balin stood in front of them and the rest of the Company gathered around.

“The contract is signed and duly witnessed,” Balin began.  “The time for any objections has passed. Dwalin, you may begin.”

Dwalin startled slightly at his brother words, then cleared his throat. “Bilbo Baggins…” He stopped short at the look on her face. “What is it, lass?”

She laughed, a high nervous sound. “You need to use my given name…Mirabelle. Mirabelle Baggins.”

Dwalin looked at her sheepishly. “I forgot I needed to use that name for wedding you. Sorry.”

“No harm done,” Balin reassured him, indicating for him to continue.

Dwalin muttered something under his breath, then began again. “Mirabelle Baggins, I wish to take you as my wife, do you agree?”

Balin shook his head with amusement, but said nothing.

Bilbo smiled fondly. “I do agree. I wish for you to be my husband. Will you do it?”

The company laughed softly and Dwalin grinned. “Gladly.” He turned to Balin, who was trying to cover a chuckle. “Is that it?”

Balin laughed outright. “That’s all that’s required for now, brother, we’ll do the marriage beads after we’re well away. Congratulations, you’re married.”

Dwalin turned back to Bilbo and took her face between his big hands. “Would you mind if I kissed you, lass?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Bilbo said, an hysterical sort of relief bubbling up inside her. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a brief, chaste kiss that did quite a bit to calm her. Then he laid his forehead against hers.

“I’ll do my best to make you happy,” he murmured, just for her ears.

“I know you will,” she replied, just as softly.

\-----------

Dain met them at the front gate, the raven crown gleaming bright in the weak morning sunlight. “I’m sorry I can’t convince you to stay,” he told Balin in his booming voice, after knocking their foreheads together with a force that made Bilbo wince. She put her hands in the pockets of her coat and fingered her marriage beads, nestled next to her ring.

“It’s better this way,” Balin said soberly as Dwalin also knocked foreheads with Dain.

“Where will you go after you’ve delivered the Halfling home?” Dain asked, with a brief glance in her direction. She huddled further into her coat to try and escape any lingering looks.

“I imagine we’ll find work somewhere,” Balin said blithely. “I’m not worried.”

Dain nodded, his face filled with sincere regret. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, I’ll be happy to do what I can.”

Dwalin’s face reflected conflicting emotions. Bilbo couldn’t decide if he wanted to change his mind about leaving or not.

“Of course,” Balin said to Dain, as he stepped back. “Take care of yourself, cousin.”

Dain laid a hand on Balin’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re welcome back any time,” he said. “There will always be a place for you here.”

Balin smiled sadly. “I know and we’re grateful for it.”

Dain turned and walked back into the mountain without looking back.

Bilbo looked at the rest of her Dwarves, who had gathered just outside the remains of the gate to see her off. She bowed to them with tears in her eyes. Balin and Dwalin, standing at her back, also bowed. Then she walked forward to take each of their hands, holding them for long moments with a sorrowful grasp, murmuring soft words of loss and comfort to them.

“I shall miss you all,” she said, when she finally stepped back. Dwalin stood behind her, his warmth a welcome reminder that she wasn’t leaving _everyone_ behind. “Remember, if you are ever passing my way that tea is at four, and you needn’t bother to knock.” They all bowed and Ori tried to surreptitiously wipe his eyes.

“Time to go, lass,” Dwalin said, his eyes filled with sadness. She wanted to tell him he could stay, that he didn’t need to do this, but the words stuck in her throat. She needed him, and was too much of a coward to let him go. He took her arm and led her towards a wagon loaded with supplies. A large waxed sheet was tied down over all but a small section of the wagon behind the driver’s box and two patiently waiting ponies were harnessed to the front. Gandalf stood nearby, holding on to his horse’s bridle.

Balin climbed up onto the driver’s seat while Dwalin hefted Bilbo into the wagon. “We made sure that you would have space to lie down,” he told her, indicating the nest of furs in the uncovered section near the front. “It’s going to be a long trip and we don’t want any harm coming to you or…” he abruptly stopped speaking, his hands still gripping her waist for a moment. Then he let her go and, without another word, climbed onto the seat next to his brother.

Bilbo thought about arguing that she was most certainly able to take care of herself, but decided not to. She had the babe to think about and, although Dwalin knew perfectly well how capable she was, he obviously felt the need to look after her. Therefore, she was going to let him do it.

Balin took up the reins, then clicked at the ponies. The wagon jerked as it started to roll away, causing Bilbo to clutch the side of the wagon. Neither of the Dwarves looked back at the mountain, but Bilbo watched as they slowly moved away. She knew that the mountain would stay in view for several days but couldn’t help feeling as if she was losing Thorin all over again. With a sigh, she wiped her eyes, then turned around to lean back against one of the chests surrounding her spot, watching forward instead so that she could see where they were heading. She was tired of crying, so decided that watching her future approach was a better choice. She just wished she could stop the ache in her heart.

Gandalf and Balin talked about going around the north end of Mirkwood but decided that it would take too long. Bilbo needed to be at Rivendell no later than the beginning of April and traveling around the forest would add at least six weeks to the journey. Gandalf rode off to find Thranduil, who reluctantly offered them an Elven escort through Mirkwood, which Gandalf promptly accepted. Dwalin grumbled about the need to travel with Elves, but Bilbo poked him in the side and he clamped his mouth shut with a glare.

The days leading up to entering Mirkwood were cold, with the threat of snow hanging in the air. Gandalf stayed with them during the day but at night he would ride off to whatever crisis he thought he needed to oversee. In the morning, Bilbo would wake to see him dozing by the fire.

The first evening, Bilbo spread out her bedding near Dwalin’s, then stood near the fire, watching as Dwalin removed only his weapons, laying them within reach, should he need them in the night. He left his armor and boots on, as all the Dwarves had done on the quest. Neither of them trusted the Elves, so Balin took first watch.

“I could take a watch,” Bilbo said as she readied herself for bed.

“No,” Dwalin said adamantly. “You need your rest.”

“I’m getting plenty of rest in the wagon, since you won’t let me walk,” she retorted, hands on her hips. “I can at least take the early watch now and then so that one of you can get a full night’s sleep.”

“We’ve gone longer, with less sleep,” Balin replied unconcernedly from the other side of the fire.

“You are both infuriating,” she said, stomping off to lie down on her furs.

“We’d be doing something wrong if you didn’t think so,” Dwalin had replied as he lay down next to her.

She heard Balin moving around behind her, keeping the fire going, watching for enemies, which Bilbo knew included supposedly treacherous Elves.

Dwalin fell asleep easily, softly snoring. She reached out and lightly touched his arm, running her hand down until she could wrap her fingers around his, then closed her eyes. She fell asleep to the sound of the fire crackling and Balin quietly humming.

_They lay on the bed in the largest bedroom of their borrowed home in Lake-Town, Thorin’s arms wrapped securely around her, his face buried in her hair. His breathing was slow and steady but he wasn’t asleep._

_“I’m going to wrap you in gold and jewels when we get the mountain back,” he murmured. “I’ll braid diamonds and sapphires in your hair, and make a netting out of the finest Mithril to wear on your head.” His fingers traced the tip of her ear. “Cuffs for your ear with the most intricate designs carved into them, along with rings for your fingers and toes. I intend to show the world that you are mine.”_

_“I don’t need gold and jewels,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “I just need you. And a garden.”_

_Thorin chuckle softly. “I would never deny my lady-consort a much-needed garden. But you must not deny me the opportunity to wield my craft for you.”_

_“A compromise, then,” she said, stroking his hand as it cupped her breast. “Flowers for jewels.”_

_He laughed lightly, then kissed her shoulder. “I think something along those lines can be accommodated. Shall we have Balin write it down for us?”_

_“We probably should,” she replied with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t want you to forget.”_

_“Never,” he whispered._

_His other hand stroked down her body to her thigh and back up again, languid in the aftermath of their passion, then settled on her belly. She thought about telling him about the babe, as his fingers stroked little circles around her belly button. She listened as he hummed a little behind her, a low baritone crooning that she found soothing._

_No, she decided. Now was not the time to tell him. He was already having second thoughts about sending her into a mountain that housed a dragon; if she said anything now he’d be sure to leave her behind in Lake-Town and she wasn’t having any of that. Better to leave it until after. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep._

\-----------

The trip through Mirkwood was not as terrible as the first time, but Bilbo still wished they didn’t have to do it. There were no spiders but the dark was oppressive and left her feeling as if she couldn’t breathe properly. With the Elves assistance, they had a small fire every night and the giant moths stayed away, but she drew no comfort from the flames. She shivered through the night and her sleep was fraught with nightmares. Dwalin gathered her close, laying his fur over them both but the only result was that neither of them were sleeping. Bilbo dozed in the wagon as they traveled during the dim light of day, but she was feeling weaker by the moment.

A little more than two weeks into the trip through the forest, Bilbo just looked at her supper with no appetite. She tried putting tiny bites in her mouth but the taste was like eating dirt. She set the dish aside and huddled closer to the fire.

“Bilbo, if you put your feet any closer, you’re going to burn them.” Dwalin sat next to her and gently took her feet into his lap.

She looked at him listlessly. “You shouldn’t care about me,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’m going to make it out of the forest.”

“Yes, you will,” Dwalin said with certainty. “You did just fine the first time through.”

“Something’s not right,” she said, swaying a little. Dwalin caught her up and lifted her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

“Is it the babe?” he whispered almost soundlessly into her ear.

“I do not know,” she replied, laying her head against his chest.

“Gandalf!” Dwalin called in a panicky voice and Bilbo looked up to see the wizard just starting to move out of the circle of the fire towards his horse. Gandalf paused and Dwalin stood, still carrying Bilbo.

“You need to stay,” Dwalin insisted. “Something is wrong with Bilbo.”

Gandalf looked down at her, his eyes piercing. “How long have you been feeling this way?” he demanded.

“Almost from the time we entered Mirkwood.” She looked at him through half open eyes.

“Why did you say nothing before?” he asked her, placing a hand on her brow.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” she said, closing her eyes as a rush of warmth filled her body.

“Ridiculous Hobbit,” Gandalf admonished. “We’re doing all of this for you. You should at least do us the courtesy of staying alive while we do it. Dwalin, take her to the wagon. I’ll look at her there, where we will have a little more privacy.”

Dwalin climbed up on the driver’s seat of the wagon, then Gandalf lifted her up so that Dwalin could settle her next to him.

Gandalf ran a hand from her head down to her belly, where he lingered, pressing slightly. “The babe is not as active as he should be,” he whispered, then shook his head ruefully. “I should have expected something like this from a Hobbit.”

“What is it?” Dwalin asked in a fearful voice. “Is she going to…die?” His voice broke on the last word.

“No, you called for me in time.” He brought his staff forward and laid it across Bilbo’s lap. Dimly she wondered why he would do such a thing. “Another week and she might have been beyond my help.”

A soft murmuring had Gandalf’s staff glowing with a soft yellow light that drew Bilbo to it like a flame. She reached out her hands towards the warmth, and turned her face to it. “Oh lovely,” she said breathlessly.

“What is it?” Dwalin exclaimed in a low voice. “What did you do?”

“The light mimics the sun,” Gandalf explained. “Hobbits need a goodly amount of sunlight; expecting Hobbits need it even more. When you travelled through Mirkwood the first time, was she tired and…bad-tempered?”

“We all were,” Dwalin retorted. “And I’m sorry to say that at the time I wasn’t paying much attention to the burglar.”

“Yes, well…” Gandalf extinguished his staff and Bilbo started to wilt back into herself. “I will no longer leave you in the evenings. The work I was doing was important but I can delay it until we are out of the woods. Carry her back to the fire.”

When Bilbo was laid on her furs, Gandalf planted his staff in the ground so that it stood directly above her. When the light from the staff was glowing and she could feel it on her face, she fell into the first real sleep she’d had for weeks.

She woke to the natural dim twilight of the forest and quiet voices nearby. “The light from my staff will not cure her, it will only delay her problems. It is not only the lack of sunshine that is causing this, Mirkwood is very sick and it’s negatively affecting her. We need to move swiftly until we are well away from the forest.”

“The Elves say that the journey will take another ten days, perhaps longer.” That was Balin’s voice.

“We can push the ponies a little more,” Dwalin said, his voice gruff from sleep.

“We’re already going as fast as we can. We want the ponies to survive the trip also.” Balin’s voice was acerbic.

Well then, Wizard, what do you suggest?” Dwalin was very unhappy, that much Bilbo could tell from his tone.

“Let me take her to the edge of the forest. We will wait for you there.”

“No,” Dwalin said shortly. “Not yet. If you can help her, I want her here with me for as long as possible. If she starts feeling ill again, then you can take her.”

“Agreed. Now I must leave you for a short time. I will return before evening.”

Bilbo opened her eyes long enough to see Gandalf on his horse heading back the way they had come. She wondered what he rushed off to do every time he left, but knew that he would never tell her. “Wizard’s business,” was always the answer.

She sat up, feeling better than she had in a long time. “I’m hungry,” she said to no one in particular.

“That’s good to hear, laddie,” Balin said from behind her. She turned to see him holding a bowl of porridge, which she took eagerly. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling a bit better.”

She ate with enthusiasm and even managed some conversation with Balin while Dwalin drove the ponies.

The spark of energy left her by late afternoon and she spent the remainder of the day drowsing in the wagon. On Gandalf’s return, he immediately lit his staff for her and, within half an hour, she was eating dinner—still very tired and moving slowly, but feeling more herself.

The next week continued in this fashion, until Gandalf’s light was no longer helping. She felt so tired that it was too much effort to even lift her arms when Gandalf gathered her up and sprang to his horse.

“We shall wait for you at the forest’s edge,” he called. You should have only another few days travel before you reach us. Be swift but do not push the ponies beyond what they can take.”

She felt Gandalf’s horse spring to life beneath her and suddenly there was wind in her hair. She cracked her eyes open to find that his staff was lit and held as close to her as he could manage and still ride the horse. “Hang on little one,” he cried. “We shall be in the clear before nightfall.”

 


	4. Home

_“Do not mourn overlong for me,” Thorin murmured and Bilbo looked up at his face. The lines of age and stress were gone, and his hair no longer held any silver. His beard hung to the middle of his chest and was woven with several silver beads._

_“I miss you,” she said simply, reaching a hand out and winding her fingers with his. “I wanted to spend my life with you.”_

_“Even after the way I treated you at the end?” Thorin gripped her hand tightly. “You would still forgive me?”_

_“Eventually,” she tipped her head down. The rings on his fingers glinted in the sunlight. “You were caught up in the gold madness and were not yourself. I admit it would have taken time to learn to completely trust you again, but I would not have left or given up on us.”_

_“You are a better person that I could have ever hoped to be,” he said roughly. “I don’t know how I was so lucky as to win your love, even for such a short period of time.”_

_She squeezed his hand, then tilted her head back up to look him in the eyes. “You earned my love with your stubborn determination, along with your passion, loyalty and thoughtfulness. I saw the way you cared for the company, how you looked after all of us.”_

_Thorin held her gaze for a long moment, then lifted his eyes to look at something in the distance. “I must leave soon,” he said._

_“You’ve only been here a few minutes,” Bilbo cried. “Stay with me.”_

_“I cannot,” he said quietly, pulling her closer. “I must leave for the Halls.”_

_“Is this a dream?” Bilbo asked, resting her head on his chest._

_Thorin laughed and it was the most wonderful sound. “If you like,” he replied, then sobered. “Let Dwalin love you and the babe. He will be fierce in his loyalty and protection, and his love will burn as a steadfast flame.”_

_“I…,” she hesitated. “I want to learn to love him, but I feel as if I’m being disloyal, letting you go so soon.”_

_“Don’t feel that way,” Thorin cautioned. “Don’t tie yourself to the past. Be happy.” He leaned down and kissed her gently. “I love you, Mirabelle Baggins.”_

_“I love you Thorin,” she whispered and then he was gone, fading away until the only thing left was his scent on the air._

\-----------

She woke to late afternoon sun casting long shadows around her. She was lying on her cloak, in a patch of cold, early winter sun with a small fire burning nearby. She moved her hand to rest on the swell of her belly, feeling the comforting roundness of the babe. “Dwalin?” she murmured.

“Not here yet,” came a voice from the other side of the fire. Bilbo turned her head and saw Gandalf sitting on a log, pipe in hand.

Slowly she sat up, stretching her back. “Where is ‘here’?” she asked, her voice muffled as she rubbed her hands over her face. “And why aren’t my dwarves with us?”

Gandalf smiled around his pipe. “It is good to see you recovering,” he said. “Do you remember anything of the forest?”

Her brow wrinkled in thought. “Not much,” she said. “The first week is clear, but after that it becomes…hazy. I remember the dark and being so cold.” She remembered Dwalin and his quiet but solid presence. She thought about how comforted she had felt by him, but she didn’t say that out loud.

Gandalf hummed thoughtfully. “That isn’t a surprise. Mirkwood affected you very badly, with its dark magic and lack of sunlight.”

Bilbo nodded. “I should have realized. Going without sunshine for an extended period is not good for me or the child.”

“No,” Gandalf agreed. “But I imagine it’s not something you would have given even a passing thought to, considering that expecting Hobbits would never be caught outside of the Shire. From what I can tell, the babe seems to be fine now that we’re out in the sunshine again.”

She pressed her hand firmly to where the child was growing and felt a slight flutter. “He does seem to be active.”

“And you, are you feeling better?”

“I’m awake,” she said, then added, “and hungry.”

“Very good,” he said cheerfully, handing her a bowl filled with somewhat stale waybread and cheese, along with a good portion of roasted meat. “I managed to catch two rabbits yesterday, so I am prepared to feed you.”

“Thank you!” she cried, taking the food and eating with enthusiasm.

“As for our location,” Gandalf continued as she ate. “We are just outside the edge of Mirkwood Forest. You were fading quickly and I could no longer help you, so two days ago I brought you out of the forest in the hopes of a swift recovery. Balin and Dwalin shall be here soon: no more than a day, I suspect.”

“Two days!” she exclaimed, putting aside her empty bowl. “How could it have been so long?”

“You were unconscious for most of a day after we emerged from the forest’s shadow. You woke briefly yester-eve and took a little food and water and then fell asleep. I roused you this morning for more water, which you took, but you were more asleep than awake.”

Bilbo pushed herself to her feet. She felt unsteady and a little dizzy, so she stayed very still until she thought she could walk without falling over. Slowly she took a few steps as Gandalf watched her closely. In the time it took to walk carefully around the fire to where Gandalf was sitting, she was feeling a little more stable. She sank down next to him.

“I don’t like feeling so weak,” she confessed.

“You have been ill for a long time,” Gandalf said. “It will take more than an hour for you to recover.”

Bilbo chuckled ruefully. “I supposed that is true, but it doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”

“There are many things that must be done that are unpleasant,” Gandalf counseled. “This is one of them.”

“Hmmm…,” was all Bilbo said in reply. Half an hour later, she fell asleep leaning against Gandalf’s leg.

\-----------

She woke late the next morning and discovered that Gandalf had moved her back to her cloak, wrapping it snugly around her. She worked her way out of it, then wandered over to the small stream trickling alongside the clearing to wash and drink. The sun was bright and she turned her face towards it, basking in the light and warmth. She imagined that she could feel the babe enjoying the sunshine also, and chuckled at her flight of fancy.

Gandalf was not anywhere in sight and she hoped he was off catching breakfast because, after three days and only a few meals, she was extremely hungry. She wandered over to where he had left his pack and saw that he had left out some of the bread and cheese from the day before. Deciding that feeding her child overruled whatever needs a wizard had, she snatched up her prize and went to sit on her cloak to enjoy it.

The bread was very stale, but dipping it in a little water helped her manage to get it down. It wasn’t pleasant to eat, but she was happier when it and the cheese were inside her belly.

She was brushing off the crumbs of her breakfast when she heard someone frantically calling her name. Looking up, she saw no one and had decided that she was imagining things, but then Dwalin came crashing into the clearing, running to her side at full speed.

“Bilbo!” he cried as he fell to his knees next to her and gathered her up into his arms. “I was so afraid that I had lost you,” he whispered into her curls.

She clutched him tightly to her, listening to his harsh breathing. Relief flooded her that he had arrived safely. “I’m here,” she reassured him, stroking her hands up and down his arms. “I’m not going to leave you, not for a long time. I am yours.”

His breath hitched at her words and he moved away from her slightly so that he could look at her face. “Bilbo…” he breathed, his face a whirl of emotions: hope, fear, confusion.

She placed her hands on his cheeks, stroking his face with her thumbs. His eyes widened slightly. “I’m staying with you,” she said. Her heart was racing. “I claim you as mine.” Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He was still for a moment, as if shocked by her forwardness, but then pulled her up and kissed her with enthusiasm. “Yours,” he whispered against her lips, then proceeded to kiss her again, a long kiss filled with passion and relief.

When Dwalin finally released her, she dug in her pocket before sitting back with a smile. She held out her hand and showed him the marriage beads sitting in her palm. “It’s time, don’t you think?”

Without a word, he took the beads from her with slightly shaking fingers and then worked two braids into her hair, each one just behind her ears. When he had woven in the beads and then tied them off he asked, “Will you do a braid for me?” His voice was low but steady.

“Do you have a bead?” Bilbo asked, and he pulled one from a pocket hidden somewhere in his clothes.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you,” he said.

She looked closely at the bead. It was silver and gold worked together and there were tiny runes etched into it, along with one acorn. Her breath hitched. “Did you make this?” she asked softly.

“No, I didn’t have the time,” he replied, stroking her fingers. “I told Dori what I wanted and he made it for me the night before we left.”

“What does it say?”

“Love, fidelity, courage, hope.” He pointed to each rune. “All the things that describe you.”

A tear ran down her face and Dwalin gently wiped it away. She took a couple of hiccupping breaths and then leaned forward to work a braid into his beard. After it was tied off, she asked “Is that acceptable? I didn’t want to hide it in the back of your head. I want to see it when I look at you.”

He lightly stroked the braid. “It’s perfect,” he said hoarsely and she leaned into him, reveling in his warmth.

“Will you lie with me?” she asked softly.

His whole body stilled. “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice quivering.

“Yes,” she said. “That way, it will almost be as if the babe is yours as well as Thorin’s.”

“You honor me more than I deserve,” Dwalin said, his voice rough with emotion. He tilted her chin up and kissed her. “When you’re completely well, it would be my pleasure.”

“Soon,” Bilbo whispered against his lips.

“Very soon,” he answered.

\-----------

Four days later, the place they set up camp offered a semi-private spot for Dwalin and Bilbo. It was just big enough for the two of them to be comfortable, with a thick layer of hardy grass, and surrounded on three sides by boulders that towered over Dwalin’s head.

After supper and a short discussion with Balin, who agreed that he and Gandalf would handle the watch so that Dwalin could spend the entire night with Bilbo, Dwalin led her to the enclosure and laid out their furs. They’d slept together the last few nights, but each night he had done nothing more than wrap her up in his arms and kiss her before falling asleep.

She watched as he spread everything out, then stood on the furs in front of him. With careful fingers, Dwalin undressed her, his hands stroking over her skin as each layer was removed. He lingered longest on the swell of her belly, pressing lightly against her.

“He’s quiet right now,” Bilbo said as she pushed Dwalin’s cloak off his shoulders, then began the tedious task of undoing all the ties and buckles on his armor. “Help me with this.”

With swift movements that spoke of the numerous times he had done it, Dwalin removed his armor and gauntlets and laid them aside, then pulled his tunic over his head. His boots and trousers took a little longer, but once he was finished, he laid her back onto the bedding, kissing first her lips and then moving down her body. He touched every part of her, including her feet and toes, until she was a quivering mass of desire. When he was certain that she was ready, he took her with such gentleness and caring that she thought she might weep if she hadn’t been in the midst of peaking. He pressed his forehead to hers and breathed her name as he spilled inside of her.

He lowered himself down to her side and gathered her close. “You’re so small,” he murmured. “I was afraid I would hurt you.”

“I know that you never would,” she assured him. “At least not deliberately.”

“You will tell me if I ever go too far.” It was not a question.

“Of course,” she replied.

Bilbo trailed her fingers over his chest, tracing over the tattoos that were nearly hidden by hair. Dwalin took her hand and laid it over the tattoo that was directly over his heart. “This was my first,” he said. “I had it done after Azanulbizar, my first real battle. It shows my status as a warrior.” He moved her hand to the other side of his chest. “This one is to honor my father and grandfather.”

“Were they both at the battle of Moria?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Da died there. Grandfather was gravely injured and died four years later.”

“Balin said that your grandfather’s name was Farin,” she said and Dwalin nodded. “I’d like to give that name to the babe.”

He clutched her hand. “You are determined to make me weep at your generosity,” he said roughly, bringing her fingers up to his mouth and kissing them. She moved closer to him and rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat until she slept.

\-----------

Crossing the Misty Mountains took longer than they expected. They would have lost the wagon several times if not for Gandalf’s magic keeping it on the path. Bilbo was forced to walk most of the way, Dwalin’s fear of losing her if the wagon fell from the cliff keeping her out of the back of it and on her feet. When they finally descended into Rivendell, they were tired and filthy and nearly into the middle of April. Bilbo was heavy with the babe and unable to walk for more than a few minutes at a time. The path had finally widened enough that she’d been able to ride the last few days.

Elrond and his healers checked her over several times but declared that, as far as they could tell, everything was progressing normally. “The child is bigger than a Hobbit babe would be,” he told Gandalf, Balin and Dwalin when they thought that Bilbo had gone to bathe. She lingered at the door, listening. “However, that is to be expected.”

“How much longer will it be?” Dwalin demanded.

“Master Dwarf, it is not my privilege to know that answer. The babe will arrive when he is ready. My one thought is that it will probably not be for at least several more weeks, since she’s only at the beginning of her eighth month.”

“She will want to go home before the babe comes,” Dwalin told Gandalf. “She’s told me several times that she wants to have the child in Bag End.”

“The journey will take perhaps three weeks if we don’t have any delays,” Gandalf mused. “I think it would be best to stay here.”

“You convince her,” Dwalin stated. “I’ve had this argument with her and she is unmoving. She wants to be home.”

“Hmmm…” Gandalf walked off, smoke from his pipe trailing behind him.

“I will send a healer with you for the journey, if you cannot convince her to stay,” Elrond told Dwalin. “That way, if the babe comes while you’re on the road, you’ll have someone there to help.”

“Thank you,” Dwalin said and it sounded like gravel in his mouth. Bilbo covered her mouth to keep from laughing. She turned when someone touched her arm, finding an elf with a towel over her arm. With a last look at Dwalin’s sour face, she left for the bath.

\-----------

They arrived home before the babe came, and to complete chaos. The Sackville-Bagginses had posted signs all over the Shire that all of Bilbo’s belongings would be auctioned off the next week and that, owing to Bilbo being declared dead, Bag-End now belonged to them.

Bilbo argued with them at the door to her Smial, while a group of Hobbits gathered around.

“And what have you been doing,” Lobelia shrieked, “to come home in such a state?”

Before Bilbo could answer, Dwalin shoved himself into the throng. “You will not speak to my wife in such a fashion!” he growled.

“Your wife!” Lobelia shouted. “Show me the proof!”

Bilbo started to pull the contract out of her pocket, but Dwalin simply grabbed Lobelia by the back of her dress and frog-marched her to the gate. He pushed her into the lane, then closed the gate and stood behind it, large and intimidating with a wide stance and his arms crossed. “No one will question our marriage. Is that clear?”

All the neighbors started nodding vigorously before realising that they had somewhere else they needed to be. Within minutes, the lane was clear except for the Gamgees.

“We’re glad you’re home, Mistress Baggins,” Hamfast said while Bell hugged her. “You were nearly too late.”

Bilbo laughed. “In more ways than just the Sackville Bagginses,” she said, stroking her belly. The babe kicked her enthusiastically.

Dwalin wrapped her up in a hug, and she leaned against him briefly before turning to open the door. The morning sun was pouring through the windows, lighting everything with a welcoming glow. She sighed with happiness as she led Dwalin inside, tucked safely under his arm. “I’ve finally found my way home.”

~End


End file.
